Face to Face (The Deverell Series Book 2)

by Susan Ward

  Varian sat up. He struck a match and lit a candle. In the soft glow he stared at her awhile, then asked, “Why? Why would you want that now?”

  Lowering her face, Merry curled her fingers around her knees. “I don’t wish to be on this ship any longer. I want to return to Winderly.”

  Alarm showed on his face. His eyes alertly searching her face, he asked, “Why do you want to return to Virginia?”

  “I do not to wish to be here. Take me to Virginia.”

  Varian climbed from the bed and shrugged into a robe. “I cannot do that, Merry. And I could not remain intact a single day without you, so it is well I cannot take you there.”

  The touch of his eyes and the huskiness of his voice wrapped around her heart like an embrace. Through the clutter of her thoughts, she could feel herself liquefy in her feelings for him. She realized there was nothing of herself she would not give to keep Varian safe. Or, her father.

  Meeting his eyes, Merry whispered with all the intensity of her heart, “I will not stay on this ship. I want to return to Winderly. But I want you to return with me. I will marry you if you leave this ship with me now.”

  In spite of her effort to stop them, she was in tears before she finished. Varian pulled her to him and she began to cry harder.

  “Merry, I would give you the moon if you’d but stop crying, but I can’t give you what you ask for. I know it is difficult for you, the constraints we are in aboard ship. It will be better in time, Little One. Have patience with me. I will not permit this to last long.”

  Merry wiped her face with fierce swipes, but the tears continue to pour down more strongly. How clever Varian was, in all moments. How well he knew how to handle a woman.

  Pulling free from his arms, she snapped, “I don’t want your pity. I want you to let go of the past, as I am willing to do for you, and leave this ship with me. I offered you all I have and you have rejected it.”

  Her urgency to leave the cabin was intolerable. She scrambled from the bed and Varian reached to stop her. She hit him. He managed to catch her arm.

  “I hate you,” she screamed, hitting him again. “Do not follow me. Or so help me I will toss myself into the sea to get away from you.”

  Once through the door, she paused in indecision in the passageway. The swinging lanterns cast a nightmarish glow down the creaking and groaning arteries of the ship. In her mind, she tallied her options. Indy’s cabin. Mr. Craven’s. Mr. Seton’s or Mr. Boniface’s. None of these possibilities were appealing, but the least offensive was Indy.

  Cautiously, she tried the knob and found it locked. It meant the boy was not in the cabin. She went next to Mr. Seton’s.

  Merry was surprised when the knob turned and her weight against the door made it swing wide. She found Brandon carelessly lying on his bunk, clad only in his unmentionables, reading a book.

  Her sudden presence surprised him and he shot upward into a sitting position. The moonlight was a glowing cap on his near colorless hair, the hard bones of his attractive face tensed, in part, from seeing her in his cabin and, in part, by how she was dressed.

  “Merry, what the devil are you doing here?” he said in a way very much alarmed. “I would appreciate it if you would leave quickly. Are you trying to get me killed?”

  She sank into the chair beside his desk. A pause came in which Merry did a lot of fidgeting, as she let her gaze absorb the details of the room. She had never been in Mr. Seton’s cabin before.

  Her eyes shifted back to Mr. Seton. She said “I need some place to sleep. I wish to sleep here tonight.”

  “Have you gone batty?” he snapped, as he crossed the cabin to the door. “You can’t sleep here. Get out.”

  Merry didn’t move.

  Brandon stared at her intensely and, in the ensuing silence, she realized there was nothing he would dare to do to remove her. Fear of Morgan would prevent him from forcibly pushing her from his cabin, and fear of Morgan would prevent him from staying.

  Lifting her chin, she said, “A gentleman would not deny a lady in distress.”

  Shaking his blond head, he hissed, “A gentleman, with any sense, would run as far from you as he could.”

  She made a pout. “That was unkind.”

  He let out a ragged breath. Then raking a hand through his tousled blond waves, he asked, “What happened? Are you all right?” She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a hand to stop her. “No, I don’t think I want to know.” He crossed the room, grabbed a quilt, removed a key from his desk and handed it to her. “I want you out at first light. And for Christ’s sake lock the door behind me. It is not safe for you in any cabin but Morgan’s.”

  With that, Mr. Seton left her. Merry locked the door, blew out the candle and climbed into his bed.

  The hours of the night aged as she lie wondering if Varian would come for her. She had no practical thought of what she would do, if he did. Turning onto her side, hugging Mr. Seton’s blankets tightly about her, the restlessness of her flesh grew into an unbearable thing.

  His bed did not hold the pleasant feel of Varian. It was strange and without warmth. In the quiet, apart from Varian now, she could feel the agony of being without him. There would be no peace inside of her until she could resolve this tangle. Even if the truth proved a dark and ugly thing, she would not be able to survive apart from him.

  She had not thought of that before she’d left the cabin. How cruel love could be at times. It was not fair that, too often, loving him came at a heftier price for her. Even his secrets and intrigues, it seemed, would be her price to bear.

  Merry passed the night, her weary mind unable to work, but at first light she woke with a plan. Mr. Seton was part of every clandestine meeting aboard ship. She needed information to make reason of what she had heard. Surely there would be something here, a document, a journal, something to betray what they were plotting.

  She rummaged through his desk, found the keys to his locker and began to search his cabin. Moving like a stubborn tornado, through every drawer and trunk, she fast learned she was no more likely to find answers here than if she went directly to Varian with her questions. There was absolutely nothing here of any significance, not a single thing that betrayed their plot or even who Mr. Seton was in true. Nothing at all. Not a personal letter, not a keepsake, and not a journal.

  How was it possible to live aboard ship for four years and have not a single identifying thing? It made Merry’s worry and suspicion increase.

  Sitting in the center of the floor, surrounded by useless clutter, her face jerked up when she heard the rattle of the knob. After attempting to turn it several times, an exasperated Mr. Seton barked, “Merry, open the door.”

  Springing to her feet, she began to frantically return his possessions to their rightful place. It would never do to be caught rummaging through his belongings. On a frantic whisper, she warned, “You had better not come in, Mr. Seton. I am washing. I do not think that would go well for you.”

  She heard his body slide downward against the door until he sat on the deck. “No, you are not washing. There is no water in my pitcher.” Merry paused to look and found he was right. “Do you mind me asking when I may expect to have my cabin back?”

  Nearly done tucking away her mess, she said, “You may ask. That does not mean I’ll answer.”

  “Then perhaps you will answer me.”

  A low voice.

  Panicked, Merry shoved the last of Mr. Seton’s belongings beneath his bunk and climbed beneath the covers of his bed. In a flash of seconds, a key was eased into the latch and then the door was opened wide.

  Varian stepped in and closed the door behind him. He crossed the cabin to place a soft kiss upon her lips, but he did not sit on the bunk beside her.

  “Do you plan to brood in here all day? Or would you prefer to discuss what is troubling you?”

  Merry stared at him, her anger rising. His words made her actions seem very foolish, for once they were anything but foolish, and worse she could n
ot argue with him without betraying the cause of her behavior.

  She took a moment to assess Varian’s mood before she answered him. He was cautious and remote today. Something in their conflict the prior night had worried him, otherwise his demeanor would not be such this day. Perhaps that was why he hadn’t come in the night to collect her from Mr. Seton’s cabin.

  “I’m not brooding,” Merry said finally.

  “Then can you tell me what it is?”

  She answered him this time with silence, her eyes drenched with deepening color. Touching his fingers along the slope of her cheek, Varian felt her tense. It hurt him she would not share what was in her mind and it hurt him more to know she was afraid to.

  She sat curiously still, staring at him. Then her gaze fixed on her knees. It was a gesture he knew well. It would be followed by stubbornness and silence.

  Varian sighed and said, “You are my heart, Merry. There is nothing you cannot trust me with. If you do not wish to explain what has you so distraught, then do not explain. But when you are ready to tell me these things which trouble you so, I will be near and I will let no harm come to you.”

  The lump rose in Merry’s throat. What she heard in Varian’s voice caused her insides to sharply adjust. Fighting with him last night and passing the hours without him, it had felt as though she could not find a comfortable moment in herself. However she managed this quandary she would not endure if it continued on as so. But if Varian questioned her much more, she did not doubt between her fear, her worry and her love; it would be her love of him to win.

  If things continued thusly, it was only a matter of time before she would crumble and tell him everything. The temptation to unburden her heart into his care was already nearly too great to resist.

  She had to put an end to his questions and her want to impart her worries to him. Using every dram of her depleted strength, she put her arms around his neck and touched her lips to the underside of his chin.

  Varian felt the sweet move of lips and felt despair in his soul. After a lingering taste of his flesh, Merry eased away from him. Her smile came brilliant and deliberately seductive. But it came too quickly. It was a defense—a defense against him, he amended sadly.

  Fear whispered through Varian, like a white flame, since he could not read her worries and the attendant to that—instinct— gave warning he should not leave this matter undisturbed. The smile and the kiss caused him to make note she was becoming very good, very quickly, at knowing how to use the power of his love for her.

  “I do not know why you will not trust me,” Varian said softly into her silence. “Do you think, when you are my life, I could let any harm to you? Do you think I could harm even a hair on your head? I do not know why you will not trust your own heart or me.”

  The slow lift of Merry’s lashes was artfully done. In time, Varian would not know for sure if it was merely an act of diversion. She said, “And I do not know why I cannot get you to pick me up from this bed.”

  Varian sighed, but he could see all the things not quite completely concealed in her eyes. He wondered what she had stumbled upon, for surely there was something. She is suspicious and afraid. How much does she know? The future. It was closing in. How much should he tell her? My beautiful girl, what will all this mean to you?

  “I’m sorry I quarreled with you,” Merry said sweetly. “It was not good of me to inconvenience Mr. Seton. I will be very contrite, if you let me.”

  She pushed free of the blankets so that he could pick her up. Her magnificent blue eyes sparkled at him as she waited. Let it go, Varian, he told himself as he scooped her from the bunk. It will do no great harm to let her win this day. The truth will come in time. There was no stopping it. They would both face it then.

  On slow, even strides Varian carried her down the passageway, past Brandon Seton and the small gathering of crew in the dimly lit corridor. It did not matter they stared. It did not matter this was dangerous. It only mattered that it seemed to please Merry. Such a small victory to give her.

  Merry’s passion-flushed face tucked into his neck, the gesture sweet and young and making him smile. He reminded himself that soon Merry would be all there would be. The truth would not matter then. Not the truth of her or the truth of himself.

  Her silky white arms slipped around his throat as the cabin door clicked closed. He felt the touch of her lips. It had shocked him last night how hard he’d had to fight against the impulse to give Merry her way, to change course for Winderly, and leave the ship behind. When he started this journey, he had nothing at risk. Now there was Merry. He set her on the bed. God, how he wished it were done and knew with certainty what his future would be. How desperate he was for the quiet pleasure of certainty.

  “I love you,” she whispered, but there was sadness in her voice even with her heart glowing on her face.

  Merry lifted upward, her mouth on his, and Varian felt as if he were drowning in her. They were on their knees on the bed, undressing each other between passionate, long kisses. He held her face between his hands. “You are my heart, Little One,” he said, kissing her eyes, her nose, and then her mouth. “There is not a thing of you that you cannot trust me with.”

  She pulled him back against the bed, and her mouth was like a flame, searing him wherever she touched. They strained together, touching, kissing, and whispering. It was Merry who held him fiercely against her beating heart. It was Merry’s passion that swallowed them both. There was something frantic and desperate in how her flesh moved.

  Unexpectedly, the fear whispered inside of him, forcing upon him the truth he had yet to share with her. His past, the present, and what it would mean to her future. He could not protect her completely, no matter what parts of himself he shared. Whether they had meaning to her or not, he could not protect her completely. Jesus Christ, he’d be the happiest man in the world, if all there was was loving Merry.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “She suspects something,” Tom Craven said into the silence. “The night she spent in Brandon’s cabin, she searched it. How much have you let slip, Varian? How much does Merry know?”

  “I know she searched,” Varian said calmly, although his insides were like a twisting snake. He looked up from his glass. “She’s searched all the officer’s cabins, but yours. I expect yours will be next. She has found nothing. Knows nothing. I’ve told her nothing. We need be more discreet. That is all.”

  Tom stared at him, his expression wistful and damning. “Tell her the whole of it now, while she is where we can manage her. The risk will be too grave once we are in London, should she learn the truth then.”

  Varian’s gaze shifted from the window, focused, and began to burn. Tom’s counsel was wise, but it did not mean Varian welcomed the hearing of it. For many weeks, he sensed there was much on Tom’s mind he was unwilling to share.

  Half-truths, lies and deceptions. How weary he was of the games within the game they played. Tom was correct. The wise move was to tell her the whole of it. A simple thing. The only thing he could not do.

  “I will not give her the danger of knowing what we are about,” Varian said.

  Tom’s gaze sharpened on his face. “You are afraid of the truth. What it might mean to her. Do not put the noble wash to your silence as protecting Merry in this. It is yourself you protect. Ease her suspicions. You are wrong to fear where the truth will leave you.”

  For a second time, in a handful of minutes, Varian sensed it. Tom knew more than he was willing share.

  His black eyes shimmered as they fixed on the older man. “It is my decision what she may know, Tom. To tell her more could make the case Merry was involved in our endeavor. You would do well to hold your tongue.”

  Tom’s dull eyes flashed with fury. “Have I ever betrayed you? How dare you suggest I may? My risk is no less grave than yours in this. Her risk is no less grave than yours in this. Do what you must. I will stay silent. But if the girl is harmed …” The sharp accent of a brow caused Tom to falter a
moment, “…you will have no one but yourself to blame.”

  ~~~

  The next week at sea was tranquil. Varian was more attentive of Merry than he had been since leaving Barataria. Holding tightly to the privacy of her worries, Merry was beginning to believe the future would take care of itself if she made the most of loving him today.

  Varian’s clandestine meetings with the crew abruptly stopped. They spent long, luxurious hours in the cabin together. There might have been no ship, no world beyond the cabin walls, with how deeply into each other he pulled them. It was true much simmered beneath the surface of Merry, her fears were never completely from her mind, but loving him was not a choice, it was the being within her being, which made all things possible to endure.

  On the seventh morning, Merry was alone in bed when she stirred to find Varian sitting at the table picking at his breakfast. He was deeply engrossed in work and she knew the sweet idyll of the past days had ended. It took her a moment to note how Varian was dressed, and to put meaning to the motion of the ship beneath her.

  The Corinthian was at port. They had reached Bermuda. Varian was going ashore to do whatever he did during his unexplained absences, which she now knew was part of some greater undertaking that could prove dangerous to him, as well as her father.

  The morning lost its luster and she sat up in the bed. Seeing him thus, preparing to go ashore, made the unease return through her veins. She watched as Varian went to retrieve more papers from his sea chest, which was never unlocked unless he was working. She wondered if he would ever tell her the truth about all this, if all men held back pieces of themselves from the women they loved, and if it were the fate of all women to know they would never know completely the men they loved.

  Deeply claimed by his task, Varian seemed suddenly very far away from her. Climbing from the bed, she asked, “How many days will you be ashore?”

  Varian sat back in his chair and watched Merry run a brush through her hair. “No more than three days. If I can manage, perhaps only one night. I have no want to leave you a moment longer than necessary.”